


Whatever

by MateriaFlower1_1



Category: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Parent-Child Relationship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 14:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14357733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MateriaFlower1_1/pseuds/MateriaFlower1_1
Summary: 'Whatever...' is all Rinoa thought he could say, at first. He was like a blank, icy wall. And for her part, she was overly expectant - perhaps. A series of one shots about Squall and Rinoa's life, romances, and turbulence; in different worlds and over all stretches of time.





	1. Chapter 1

_015\. Breath_

Night time had become a danger zone. Sleeping had become a battlefield. Dreaming had become a war. For Rinoa at least. I sometimes dreamt about her succumbing to some awful punishment or curse or sinking too deeply into despair with her dreams. I'd wait in a rickety the night to be awoken by a sharp breath, and the tears and shaking that came with it.

She wasn't dealing with the aftermath well. She'd seen too many things, watched as too many died at the grim hands of the malevolent sorceresses before her. I knew that she feared one day losing all of her control and becoming evil - just as Edea did. I could only sympathise to an extent - I could not empathise with her entirely.

She'd told me once that she had dreams. She'd dreamt of finding me on a dingy outcrop of dry, cracked land, being slowly sucked in by the grey ether. She'd had dreams of the flowers and feathers in the field we promised to meet in. But she'd also had dreams of seeing a girl with black hair and slate eyes, looking in terror at something, and seeing her blood on my hands. That worried me too - I promised her that should she ever become too powerful, too far from what she was, that I would kill her, as her knight. I never thought I'd have to make true on that promise, and the forecast that maybe I would, terrified me.

But she had violent dreams of terrors gone by and terrors still to come that would never come to pass now. Of Ultimecia's booming, rasping, lisping voice shouting her down into oblivion, forcing her into a body she never wanted to become. Of watching me die in space, my helmet shattered and watching me suffocate until I couldn't take just one more breath.

I began staying awake at night, waiting for her to awaken. I've almost fallen asleep myself countless times, but her sharp breaths of fear wake me up, and I comfort her until she can sleep again. I never thought it would come to this, but I don't mind wasting away my sleep so that she can rest better at night. She means more to me than anything else, and so it follows that her health and well-being means more to me than my own.

I'm going to the doctor in Esthar today though, to get some remedy for her. Something to ease the pain in her mind and quell the terrors at night. Maybe then she can reclaim her sleep, and I can rest alongside her, without fear of waking up to the sound of her sharp breath.


	2. 011. Whatever

_011\. Whatever_

Laguna approached me today. He asked me to talk, and I shrugged. People usually talk to me then. He looked at me strangely and ushered me into a room. I already knew what he was going to say, I knew what he wanted.

"Squall, I just want to say first off that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for never being there and for not realising sooner."

I looked at him mutely, my arms folded across my chest. What was it with Esthar's rooms? They all looked so blue, and flashy, with bright consoles. Like they had to show off their technology everywhere. At least Balmb is tasteful.

"You see, I'm actually... I'm actually your father."

I nodded, looking up at the ceiling.

"What, you knew?" He brought a palm to his face and groaned.

"We look similar. Rinoa noticed it first."

He chuckled and smiled at me. "Of course. She's more perceptive than her mother was at least." I raised an eyebrow but didn't question him. I didn't want to. "Well, it's good to finally know you... Son."

The word seemed very unnatural to him. He seemed like he had to force out the word. It sounded foreign on my ears too. I wasn't sure if it was a welcome sound or not but after talking with Rinoa, I think it was.

I nodded at him. I wanted to ask one question, but I didn't know if I should. "Who was my mother?" I asked, after relenting to my inner, new found morals.

He looked far off into the distance, just past my ear. "She was called Raine. Only from a little village. She was..." I'd thought he'd say many things, beautiful, pretty, gentle, but not this; "she was sensible." I raised an eyebrow at the plain sounding adjective. "But she wasn't boring. I was nice to have that stability. And she was calm and honest and everything you'd really want in life."

"You miss her?" I asked in the ensuing silence.

He nodded, smiling with the latter half of his mouth and looking me up and down, presumably for signs of my mother. Perhaps I was the only thing he had left of her in the world.

"You know, even though they gave you a bit of a cruel name, it suits you."

I raised an eyebrow, again, at his compliment. There was always something to pick on with my name when I first started at Balamb. Of course, there was - I was named for a destructive storm. I was destined to be the perfect SeeD from the outset. But he was right, it was me now, and Rinoa liked it and my friends knew me by it. "Thanks." I tipped my head and looked back at him equally as intently he looked at me. I almost felt sorry for his forlorn expression when he looked into my eyes, or when he took in the crafting of my face. He looked like he was remembering the entirety of a life gone by. It was almost sad in a way - eighteen years spent in ignorance and an entire life had taken place whilst he'd been counting his losses, alone.

_Whatever._

* * *

Rinoa was acting strange yesterday. She kept talking to me, crossing her arms behind her back and leaning forwards slightly, like she does whenever she wants something. She came up to my office first, clambering all the way up the stairs - I could see her, running up the glass walked stairs against the backdrop of a recently uncovered Esthar. When she finally got to the top, all she did was bug me. Talk about our past, ask about our future, debate on the present. She spent almost all day up there, meandering around, talking to me, playing with a stray kitten she'd found - god knows from where. She even asked to keep the cat.

"Hey Squall, can I keep this cat? Look at her, she's so cute - such a fluffy kitty!" She cooed, stroking its small head with an elegant finger. I looked at the cat briefly - the thin little white kitten with piercing blue eyes. It looked at me so serenely, washing its little black-footed paws. I sighed, and nodded. She grinned at me and talked at the cat, cooing in happiness. That kitten is now named Snowy. She stayed up there for a few more hours, and finally, when the sun was setting over the Salt Plains, and casting an orange glow on Esthar Garden, did she become slightly more serious.

"Hey, Squall..." She drew out my name, looking down at the purring, snoozing kitten on her lap. "Have you ever thought about, you know, what we're gonna do in the future. I mean... We live together." She twisted some of Snowy's fur around her fingers as she spoke.

I looked up at her from my desk and examined her face, only to look down at the desk again. I knew what she wanted. I'd known for a while. But she didn't need to know that yet.

"We should go. We need to get a home ready for... Snowy." The name felt weird on my tongue. But Rinoa liked it.

_Whatever._

* * *

Today I became a fiancé. And I found out I'm allergic to cats.

_Whatever._

* * *

I'm a father now. It's difficult to believe for one as apathetic as me, but I am. She was born a week ago, with her grandfathers waiting to meet her and all our friends who'd dubbed themselves Aunts and Uncles. We chose Zell and Quistis for Godparents though - I wouldn't trust Selphie and Irvine with my daughter, they'd try and dress her up in fluorescent yellow and train her on using guns within five seconds. Not that I don't trust them. Laguna, my father, couldn't stop smiling all day - not that he often did, but his face must've ached by the end of the day. And Rinoa's father cracked a smile at least once - when he saw that she has Rinoa's earnest eyes. The same eyes her grandmother had. Even though it's been a week, and the new routine of very little sleep is just kicking in, I can't believe it. I don't think anyone can be prepared for how unprepared you'll be. Nothing compares to it, not even anything from all of our travels. When I think about it like that, Laguna had it so much easier. I don't have to have any care now, we just got to talk when I'm a fully responsive, eloquent adult. I don't think I'd miss it though, not for the world. Even if I do work most of the day, running Esthar Garden, I don't think I'd miss it. She's too precious for that; every moment counts.

_Whatever._

* * *

I am alone, as of today. She's gone, taken by disease. Her skin is cold and turning blue, her eyes have no light to them, and her once brown streaked-black hair has long since turned grey, and now it's cold and lifeless. Never again will blood flow through her veins, nor will her heart beat. She is gone, her soul departed and her body broken. I was expecting it, but not like this. I am numb. I was numb when my father died and I still haven't quite recovered, but I am worse now. I feel empty and cold. I won't say anything - my children are grieving, but I feel just as awful as they do. My youngest son is running the Garden in my stead - the handsome project it turned out to be. My elder daughter is a poet, a traveller and a wife, and my elder son is an artist - travelling the world in search of inspiration and passion and love. My youngest daughter is the deputy at Balamb Garden, under the leader, Quistis and Seifer's daughter. Her home is my old home, and her husband is my best friend's son. They are all happy in their lives, and it is time that I should move on too. Join my wife - join Rinoa, in that little white dress with the strap that curved around her slender neck; dancing in the crowded hall of Balamb Garden, the marble floor clicking under her white heeled shoes...

_...Whatever..._


	3. 017. Think

_017\. Think_

I think that when we first met, I was interested, but I wasn't heartbroken when we parted. He was handsome, sure, with soft, brunette hair and deep, steely-blue eyes. And I just knew that under his suave uniform, he would be toned and muscled from the extensive training I knew they went through. Sure, I thought he would've been nice as a bit of a rebound, but he was nice for that evening. He was a good dancer, and his voice was deep but pleasant; gravelly, but not nails-on-a-chalkboard. Of course, when I left him, taking far longer than I should've done to let go of his hand, I was a bit disappointed but it wasn't anything major. If I saw him again, I'd flirt with him until he was mine, but if not... Well, there had to be other steel eyes, brunette, mercenaries on the planet. Maybe I'd go and scour the other two gardens for men like him. As it was, I didn't need to.

Much to my surprise, delight, and perhaps slight horror, he was the one sent to us. With two others, who were both very nice, but he was my main focus. I spent that night and a few others speaking to Angelo, the only one who truly listened to me, about him. About how my first impression of a suave, smooth personality was completely off and how he was actually cold, uncaring, and a bit of a jerk. But still...

"He's got such nice eyes, Angelo." I muttered into my dog's soft fur. "And soft hair. And such a nice jawline."

Angelo whimpered and made a small bark. He was probably telling me I was being silly, he was too rude and mean to like, and that I was being too shallow. Of course, that was true, but I think that maybe it was around that time when the first string of my heart began to fall for him.

I think that when he carried me halfway around the world, he might've realised that he loved me. If only I'd been able to remember what he said to me... I could just hear his voice; the gentle sound that relaxed my mind and softened the infinite blackness just a bit. He was so kind to me then, and wouldn't hear of putting me down, nor giving me to anyone else until they reached Esthar. Such a long way to go, such a selfless thing to do... And all for me, of all people. I'd thought he might be a nice rebound at first, and now he truly loved me, and I think I was starting to love him... Even when his shoulders caved and his legs faltered, he wouldn't share the burden with anyone else. So different from the man if first met, the slightly selfish, cold, closed off man who'd just been there for the money, and lack if anything else to do. How people change.

He followed me into space too. He put his own life on the line, to save mine. Me, a sorceress, the ultimate outcast. If the hadn't taken me into space... Maybe they would've killed me. They probably wanted to kill me, after I released the old sorceress, the evilest of them all to have walked on this earth. Adel. And I was trapped once more, my mind an infinite blackness. I don't know how long I was there for, or for how long we floated once he released me from my prison, but it felt like years. I felt trapped, claustrophobic within my own blank mind. But I think that when he piloted us back to safety, and I sat on his lap for the safety he gave me; with my mother's song floating through my head, I think that looking into his eyes I realised I loved him.

But he almost left me, almost disappeared from my life just as ours was beginning. He almost disappeared in the frantic blobs that were time, never to have been, never to be. He would've been wiped like a boring dream from my memory. He promised to be my knight, and he was not there. He promised to be with me, forever, but he would not keep that promise. I suppose u felt betrayed that he couldn't find me. He said he'd be able to, but I thought it must've been a lie. And then the pleading of my friends as the tears raced down my face, I jumped back into the hectic sprinting of time to find him. And there he was, lying there half dead on the cracked, grey, dying plateau of earth. I wept more tears for him, and I think that then, I'd given up all hope. I think that I really believed the two of us would be swallowed up by time. But then that refreshing spring breeze proved me wrong.

We'll be joined together for life today, with a ring and a few pretty words. The white dress and the suits feel almost too much for what it is at its heart. But the both of us are famous now, and Laguna, the poor man, said that he'd always wished he could've married Raine. Squall wanted a wedding that he could attend so that even if he couldn't have married Raine, he could see his son get married. And my father wanted to walk me down the aisle, even if it was just because of how much I looked like my mother. I can see him, standing there with a smile on his lips. We'll be happy together, I think.

 


	4. 050. Flowers

_050\. Flower - Squall/Rinoa._

_Honeysuckle._

I was in a state of mild consciousness for a while. I could see flashes - a face I didn't know but did, a man I loved, a mother I barely knew and honeysuckle flowers, held in hands that I couldn't recognise but felt like home. And then I awoke, in a shrinking grey world that was conjured from my darkest nightmares. I'd seen this place, when I was kept chained in the vast, pitch, emptiness of space. I saw the cracked grey ground, and the sheets of charcoal wind, caught with all kinda of debris, spinning closer and closer, closing in on me.

And him. He was lying there on the ground, unmoving. For one tragic moment, I thought he was dead. I thought I was too late. It thought it was all a dream - or a nightmare. The air caught in my throat and bile rose from my stomach as I cradled him in my arms and tried to coax any sign of life out of him - any sign at all. But he wouldn't move, nor take a breath. I thought it was all over, and the fat teardrops welled in my eyes and rolled down my face, one by one splashing onto his skin with obnoxious crashes. I closed my eyes and wished, prayed, _begged_ that something would happen.

And then he took a breath. And another, and another, and another, and more. And his eyes fluttered open slowly. I looked into his eyes and felt the wind on my face. He looked up at me, his slate eyes adjusting to the new light, and the pupil pulsed into seeing. He tried to sit up, and I looked away from him, up to the sky, thanking whoever would listen, putting a careless hand in my hair to keep it from my face. I saw the blue sky above me, parting the charcoal cyclones, and the white puffy clouds that replaced them. Pastel flowers and ethereal feathers swirled in the air, and the wind settled. I caught one petal in my hand, and I watched him sit up, and face me.

This was the field. This was the field we'd promised to meet in. I could see the orphanage in the distance, and I smelt the sea that restlessly beat the rocks all around this island. We were home, we were safe, and we were alive. And the honeysuckle flowers that surrounded us and tickled his nose were the proof of it.


	5. 050. Eyes

_050\. Eyes - Squinoa_

_Golden_

He had such cool eyes. They were so cold and grey - nothing like the bright blue eyes that Seifer had. But I was attracted to them nonetheless, they were every inch the bad boy, and that's exactly what drew me to men, much to my own hindrance. But I didn't expect him to act and speak so coldly to me too - his eyes were actually warmer than his frigid personality, it turned out. He was so stoic and short with his words. But I was still attracted to him, and his soft ebony hair and strong, defined jaw and toned, muscular body, and the grey, cold eyes. It was mostly funny how his eyes looked startled when I dragged him off to dance, and from there he was mostly confused. But that was okay. I only thought I'd ever seen him for one night, and I was at peace with that. I knew that with the memory of his cold, smouldering eyes I'd be okay.

I was honestly surprised when he actually came to Timber, but that was only the start. He was so cold and obtuse at first, but I soon got him to warm up to me. And by the time I was truly in danger when the sorceress' powers had been transferred to me, and I was dead to the world - and I really thought I was dead too - he carried me, on his back, all the way to safety. He put himself on the line for me, so the story goes, and I'll never be able to thank him enough. I remember waking up to his eyes and, before I regained proper function of my brain, thinking how much he'd changed - how now, the once cold steel eyes were warming and becoming golden in their warmth. He was thawing out, all because of me. I knew that I definitely liked him more than Seifer - Squall actually cared about me. He actually maybe even loved me.

When I found him in that shrinking limbo, I thought he was dead. He was so close to death - too close. I felt my eyes well and my throat clog and clump up. I took him in my arms and wished and prayed as I was sure I felt the life drain out of him. I close my eyes and the next thing I felt was the sickly heat and claustrophobia of that limbo disappear, as my hair ruffled in a fresh spring breeze. Petals flew everywhere about us, and they clung to my hair, sticking to the raven strands. I looked around in awe as the world changed around me, the blanket of grey sky that was slowly consuming us was thrust back by a blue sky and expansive green field, covered in feathers and flowers. I looked down at him and watched as his eyes fluttered open. The steel colour shifted as he saw me, and I noticed (somewhere in the rational part of the brain that wasn't screaming and crying and overly relieved did anyway) that his eyes softened to me, and just for me. The colour was reflected almost gold in the warmth and flower petals and brilliantly luminous golden sun. I had thawed him out, and now he could kiss me in public. And he wasn't all bad and cold and curt anymore. He was soft and understanding and said everything he wanted to fully and freely - mostly, anyway.

His eyes were now grey, and golden, and warm.


	6. 013. Twisted

_013\. Twisted_

An oath.

They said he'd made an oath to me, once.

When I woke up in a room pulsating orange and crystal blue lights, with the smell of chemicals and that peculiar aseptic smell of hospitals stinging my tender nostrils, and my back acutely aware of quite how hard the bed was, they told me he'd made an oath when I first collapsed.

"He never left your side," Selphie said as she watched Irvine pass me a cup of water. Even her hair seemed to be drooping. Quistis didn't meet my eyes. Irvine handed me the water and that peculiar look of a frightened doe was in his eyes. Zell sat quietly asleep in the corner. And Squall, he was nowhere to be found. 'He never left your side', she said. That was a comfortable lie.

They told me he made an oath that he would see me cured, revived, and by his side.

"Then his oath was fulfilled," I told them, puzzled, and raring to move. My body felt renewed after a few minutes, I felt more fit and powerful than ever before.

Then they told me.

It is funny, therefore, that all these years later I sit at his side. There are blue and orange lights faintly pulsing all around. A chemical smell, one that is peculiar to the aseptic quality of hospitals, which bothers my nose. The seat feels rigid under me, and the cotton sheets are lumpy, pilled with time. He is not waking up.

Unlike last time, he isn't waking up. It was he who made the vow then - and yet now I make much the same vow. I won't leave his side, not until he is cured. Selphie sits on one side of the room, her long hair lies flat and duller than it had once been. Irvine sits on the other, pointedly conversing with Zell. Zell's face fell quiet long ago, and now he looks at the ex-marksman with stoicism. Quistis sits with Seifer, and reads. No one wants to raise their voice. No one wants to break the spell over the room. The feeling that, if anyone snaps the near silence then it will break the illusion.

At the end of Squall's bed lies a small sheet of paper affixed to a metal clipboard, scribbled over in messy handwriting. We all know what it says. No one moved to check it.

The steady beeps of the heart monitor keep me sane. Or perhaps they invite my madness. I check his face over and over for signs of life, signs of movement. Nothing.

Laguna had not come. SeeD continued as usual. Edea and Cid sent a small card, with a secretary's handwriting.

It is a cold world, and twisted. Distorted into a place of death and misery and pain.

If we had left Ultimecia in power, would it be better? It was something I often wondered. If time had not fractured as we scrambled away, if we had left fate up to the gods instead of challenging it ourselves, would we now be happier? I am unsure, but I cannot help but be bitter as I wonder.

It is a twisted world, I think, as I look disgustedly out of the grimy window to the grey sky, and reach for the metal clipboard.

Quistis lets out a small gasp, and Selphie shoots a nasty glare at Irvine, and the rings he's wearing. Petulant children, in this miserable world.

And there it is, as I had expected. The word I expected to see, written in scrawled doctor's ink-

The indecipherable word.

 


	7. 110. Endless Night

_110\. Endless Night_

It was a cold night in Esthar. The wind seemed to be blowing a cruel path across the salt plains and straight into the invisible city, freezing the blood in Rinoa's veins. She and Squall were sitting outside, waiting for Laguna's meeting to finish and for them to know what came next.

Squall hadn't said anything in ages. He was just silently leaning back in his chair, staring out over the city and across the salt plains.

Rinoa was looking at him, wondering what on earth to say. She felt that between the two of them, there was a lot left unsaid - and not just small things in the healthy, compromising way. And she was too proud and he too guarded to address any of it. They knew they liked each other. Everyone knew they liked each other. Even Kiros, a man they'd just met, had dropped a hint to her that he knew. He said that the two of them reminded him of the first time he went to visit Raine and Laguna.

Well, at least something happened between those two.

Rinoa let out a sigh and was disappointed to see a cloud of mist lingered for a moment. It really was cold, and she wasn't wearing nearly enough clothes. That's it, it was time to go. Oh god, these shorts had been a mistake from day one! She should've just got up a bit earlier that day in Timber, and put on something actually nicer than the bicycle shorts she threw on at the last minute.

She stood and Squall seemed to snap out of a daze or whatever it was. "Where are you going?"

"Inside. I'm cold."

He looked at her for a moment as she stared down at him.

"Why?"

Rinoa closed her eyes and tilted her head to the sky. She may be uncontrollably, irreversibly falling in love with this man but it didn't stop how much he could annoy her sometimes.

"I'm cold."

She could've heard an icicle melting fifteen miles away. Sometimes, she wasn't even surprised by it. When she was in less forgiving moods, she just wanted to grab him by the shoulders and give him a strong lesson in social cues. But today she understood, but she was also tired. Without a sound she turned, taking a few steps towards the door that she'd sworn until just a few hours ago was a 'fire exit only' door.

A hand caught her wrist. A warm, gloved hand.

Rinoa looked back, half startled and half pleased. "Yes?"

"Would you stay with me?" Squall looked at her with a confusing glint in his eye.

Rinoa stepped back and nodded. "Okay." _But give me your jacket_ "I'm still cold, though." She mumbled, hoping that would be enough of a hint. It wasn't.

"Rinoa, I think we should talk."

She wouldn't have been surprised if you'd said her eyebrows looked like they were in her hairline.

"Okay."

"I-" he looked out over the salt plains again. But now he wasn't leaning back; he looked stiff, and tense, leaning forwards. "I care about you more than any other person on this planet."

Rinoa only stared at Squall with wide eyes and prompted him on with an affirmative hum. Speaking was never her best skill - even when she wasn't on the verge of throwing her pancreas up through her mouth.

"I don't care what Laguna says has to happen to you, I'll stay with you."

"Squall, I-"

"Rinoa, I love you."

Rinoa looked at him with her mouth half open. She'd stayed to get his jacket, not a confession of love.

"Squall, I-" he stood up, and leant against the nearby balcony, standing with his back to her. It made her job a lot easier. "I know."

It felt pathetic coming from her mouth, but she didn't know what to say. "You matter to me more than anyone else ever has. And whilst I couldn't say I love you now, I almost do."

She stood, and walked next to Squall.

"Almost in love?" He looked at her, and was _smiling_. It meant a lot. More than the words he was saying, at least.

Rinoa nodded with a half smile. "Yes." There was still something in the bottom of her stomach that made her feel like she was about to either get the worst cramps or throw up before the hour was out. All those songs her mother wrote and sang and left as her legacy were slowly beginning to make sense.

Suddenly, she gave an involuntary shiver. She'd briefly forgotten about the cold but now it'd struck her again with a vengeance.

"Oh god!" She breathed as she clamped her arms around herself, trying desperately to warm herself up.

Squall laughed - laughed! - and then took off his jacket. He placed it around Rinoa's shoulders, and she finally remembered what warmth felt like.

She looked at him with a smile and thanked him, drawing it around her shoulders.

So she'd stayed outside to steal his jacket and ended up with both that and a love confession.

There was a lot more waiting to do for that long, endless night, but at least the air between them was much, much clearer by the end.


	8. 094. Alcohol

_094\. Alcohol_

Laguna sat at his desk, feet propped up on the glass desk and legs crossed over one another. His arms lay cradled on his stomach, thumbs twirling around each other, greying hair pulled back out of his eyes.

Squall sat upright in the chair, back straight as a bone, as he'd always been taught. It wasn't proper nor good manners to slouch. His hands lay flat, and still, on top of his legs.

The pair couldn't be more different if they'd tried.

"So." Laguna declared.

"So." Squall replied. Their voices seemed to reflect each other. And where Laguna has that happiness edged with just enough darkness so that you knew he'd had almost everything he loved taken from him, Squall had no qualms about displaying these hurts in the form of his sullen stoicism. It was as though he was challenging the world to make him happy. If anything, that made Squall the more sensitive of the two; where Laguna hid all his pain, Squall made it plain that it was there.

"I think that we need to talk."

Squall raised an eyebrow. "It depends on what you have to say, really."

For some reason, perhaps it was that the words Squall said resembled Raine so closely, he lost all ability to keep up his facade. He jumped up, like the spritely man his son was, and walked over to the wooden cabinet. He pulled out a bottle of ochre rum and poured two glasses. He deposited one back on the desk before taking a sip from his own.

"This is going to be a long night."

Squall nodded, and took the glass, inspecting it before taking a sip himself.

"I'm sorry."

Squall didn't say anything, but the slight shift in his grey-blue eyes told it all.

"You've seen it in all the dreams Elaine showed you, didn't she?"

"You... fell in love?"

"Married."

"Married a woman in Winhill, left to chase after Ellone, and the woman died."

Laguna put a hand over his face, shielding his eyes.

Squall pressed on, regardless. "She delivered a child - a son - and he was deposited in an orphanage. The orphanage of Cid Kramner, and his wife, Edea. Ellone later attended this orphanage, too."

Laguna said nothing but hid his eyes behind a hand. Squall merely took another sip from his glass. He didn't much care for rum normally, but now it felt useful. It gave him something to do in the suffocating silences when words just weren't enough and he couldn't bear to look at Laguna.

"I... I didn't know." Laguna whispered. "I swear to you, I never, ever knew." He removed the hand and looked into Squall's eyes. "If I had known, I..."

"I'd be a different person."

"Yes." Laguna nodded, picking up the glass and looking into the swirling liquid. "So would I."

The room around them felt too large, with ceilings too high and lights too dim for a moment like this. The furnishing was so sparse, and there wasn't even the usual carpet of paperwork to make things look less lonely. Just the two men, a desk, a single lamp, a large cupboard, and the one that held all the alcohol.

Somehow, that made all of this so much worse.

"I often wondered what had happened to her."

"Why didn't you check."

Laguna downed the rest of his drink in one large gulp. "I never got the time to leave. As soon as Ellone was back, and safe and rescued, I was made President. I never had the time to check."

"You never had the time to visit your wife? Bring her to you? To go and see your daughter?"

Laguna merely went to get the bottle of rum, and place it on the desk, refilling his glass in sullen silence. "No."

Squall swallowed hard and downed the rest of his glass, too. He refilled it with no hesitation. "I often wondered how it might be to have a father. No one around me ever had one. I didn't they'd be quite like this."

Those words seemed to pierce Laguna, who looked up at Squall with shattered eyes. "If I could take it all back, I would. I'd rather live in a world at the end of time with my family if I could just experience one day."

Squall looked away from him and took a sip of the rum. It burned hot in his throat and left a strange aftertaste. He didn't care for it.

Neither did Laguna.

A silence stretched out between the two of them. Neither of them moved, neither barely dared to breathe. "Me too."

Laguna's mouth twitched into a tired half-smile; gone as soon as it came.

"Do you know who named you?" Laguna asked, reverting to his earlier position.

Squall shook his head. "No one knows. Cid and Edea claim that I was virtually rushed out of the village. A name and a blanket it all I came with, so they say.

Laguna's face contorted into a fierce scowl the likes of which Squall had never seen - not even in his Ellone-induced dreams. He saw himself in it, somehow.

"I'd like to have a word with them."

"I intend to, as well."

"They didn't even give you the right name."

Squall quirked an eyebrow.

"I was married to your mother. She went from Raine Leonheart to Raine Loire."

Squall nodded sharply. He took a gulp. "I like the name I have now."

Laguna nodded. "I understand." He took a sip of his own.

Father and son stared at each other, trying to look for connections that were or weren't there, wondering what they should or shouldn't ask. In the end, neither said anything.

"I'm so sorry."

Squall only nodded. He drained his glass and left, performing his strict SeeD bow before he left the room, not looking back. He didn't know if he would be alive after the next day, but at least he knew who his father is. How much he cared for that information, he still didn't know.

Somehow, he couldn't blame him. Even after everything.

Laguna sat alone in his office, staring at the door.

How lucky his son was, he thought, to have that woman by his side. The daughter of the woman who was said to be in love with him. Who wrote a song everyone knew the lyrics to, about him.

If only he knew how lucky he was to have that chance sill in life. And maybe he wouldn't have his wife ripped from him too early, and a child he never knew about suddenly appear, seventeen years of agony later. He only hoped that Squall didn't really hate him, not that much.

Not that he could blame him. After everything.

 


	9. 007. Hold

_007\. Hold_

Rinoa blinked at Squall from where she sat, comfortably nestled into the armchair, smiling widely in the fluffy blanket wrapped around her.

Squall, arms folded and eyebrow raised on the other side of the room, sitting on the arm of their sofa, sighed. "I don't think you know how genetics work."

"Oh. That's nice." Rinoa declared derisively. "I do."

"And you think our baby might have green eyes - how?"

Rinoa rolled her eyes and huffed. "Because of Laguna!"

"Ah yes," he declared, voice dripping with mocking, "one recessive gene amongst a selection of four grandparents."

"Well, it could happen! It's more dominant than both blue and grey are!"

Squall nodded. On that probability, at least, she was correct, even if he knew it to be more complicated in actuality. It was easier to just agree. "Okay, fine, I concede."

"Good."

"But-"

"Well, that didn't last long."

"-I'm just saying, that since hair colour won't be much of a contest,"

"True"

"Then eye colour is the most surprising thing our son-"

"-daughter"

"-or daughter, has to show us."

Rinoa sighed, readjusting. She still hadn't got used to all the added weight and volume, even as she entered the last part of her eighth month. Even after already having one son. "I know."

A silence settled over their sitting room, up in the highest vestiges of Esthar Garden. They had a nice suite of apartments here - enough for the two of them, and their son, and the possibility of a third. Not quite yet though, Rinoa thought, wincing as her bladder was kicked. Again.

"I wonder if they'll look like Rio."

Squall smirked. "I hope so. He's handsome."

"Yeah, he is." Rinoa smiled. "You're welcome for those genes."

Squall scowled, falling to sit on the sofa itself, not the arm. "I'm pretty sure that Laguna claimed that he looked exactly like him as a baby."

"How would he even know?!"

"He's not that old, Rinoa. Photographs exist."

"Yes, I know." She sighed. And then she smiled. "I hope it's a girl."

Squall nodded. "Me too."

"A little girl with green eyes and brown hair." She cackled as Squall put a leather-gloved hand over his face and groaned.

In the end, neither of them were right. They had a daughter with black hair and crystalline blue eyes. And the thing they were more relieved for than anything: she was healthy. And as Squall held her for the first time, he didn't even care about their stupid argument over how she'd look, or what she'd be like: she was theirs, and they'd love her unconditionally, until the day they died.

 


End file.
